


Wake Up

by Bexless



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexless/pseuds/Bexless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Adam gets home after the tour – well, not home, he doesn’t technically have one right now; when he gets back to LA, or more accurately, to Drake – he’s so tired he can barely see straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the lovely Olivia Circe :)

When Adam gets home after the tour – well, not home, he doesn’t technically have one right now; when he gets back to LA, or more accurately, to Drake – he’s so tired he can barely see straight.

Literally: dragging himself up the stairs in Drake’s building he has to concentrate really hard on which of the four steps swimming in front of his eyes he’s supposed to put his foot on. His eyes close while he’s stumbling down the hallway, and he doesn’t so much knock on Drake’s door as he collapses against it face-first. For a second nothing happens, and Adam has this horrible moment where he thinks maybe Drake’s not there, maybe he forgot Adam was coming, maybe Adam has the wrong address, whatever, fuck it, if he has to he’s going to sleep in the hallway because his legs just won’t hold him up anymore, but then the door opens and Adam falls right through it, landing heavily in Drake’s arms.

“Hi baby,” Drake laughs against his neck, stumbling a little. Adam just moans wordlessly at him until Drake gets the door shut and pushes Adam’s jacket off his shoulders and unfolds his cramped fingers from their clutch on the handle of his suitcase. “Bed,” he says, “this way, come on.”

Adam follows blindly, most of his weight still draped over Drake’s shoulders and chest, until he is tipped down onto something soft and horizontal and blissfully unmoving. He feels Drake pulling his boots and jeans off, feels him crawl up the bed . Adam flexes his sore toes and makes some kind of sobbing sound – he’s so tired, he’s _so tired_ and he doesn’t know how to put it into words, how to deal with it. It hurts, it hurts, he wants to say, but Drake just wraps all around him and strokes firmly down his spine and says forcefully, “Shh, shh. You can go to sleep now.”

Drake always smells like the ocean. Adam takes a deep breath, and goes under.

*

When he wakes up, his stomach swoops with panic – what time is it, what city are we in, where do I need to be, who do I have to talk to – before he remembers, and feels every single one of his handful of days off stretching out over him like a blanket of glorious promise. Promise and more sleep. He’s still tired, but in the way where he feels snuggly and drowsy and heavy-limbed. It doesn’t hurt anymore, and his eyes don’t feel like they want to claw themselves out of their sockets, and his skin doesn’t itch. Drake’s sheets are soft and they smell like him; Adam wallows for a minute, rubbing his face against the pillow before he rolls over and sees Drake sitting on the little couch on the other side of the room.

Or, well, he’s not exactly sitting. He’s lying on his back, long bare legs bent up with his feet braced against the arm of the couch. His robe is pooled all around him, and he’s holding one of his design magazines up in the air, over his head, frowning and making notes every so often with the stub of pencil he has clenched between his teeth.

Adam just watches; Drake is beautiful and Adam’s and he doesn’t have to leave, and Adam looks and looks and looks until Drake turns a page and makes a horrified face at whatever he sees there, mouth pulling down at the corners with disgust, and Adam laughs out loud.

“You’re awake!” Drake says immediately, beaming at him and throwing the magazine on the floor. Adam holds out both of his arms and Drake comes tumbling over into them, clinging to Adam with all his limbs and rolling them both around.

Adam laughs into the crook of Drake’s warm neck and breathes him in; he wants to kiss Drake’s mouth, wants to look into his eyes, wants to run his thumbs over Drake’s eyebrows and cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He does all of that, and then cups Drake’s face in his hands and rubs their cheeks together, hard, relishing the harsh rasp of Drake’s stubble on his skin. He presses his nose into Drake’s soft hair and breathes him in, then pulls back to look at his face.

“Mmm,” Drake purrs, winding their legs together and squeezing Adam’s thigh between his own. “Hi, handsome.”

“Hi,” Adam says, and then kisses him so deep and so long that he gets a little light-headed. Drake’s fingers are wound tight in his hair, and the deep scratch of his nails over Adam’s scalp and the back of his neck is unbearably good.

Drake mewls when Adam pushes up with his thigh, then rolls them again and sits up, shucking his robe the rest of the way off and stripping Adam of his underwear and shirt. When they’re naked Adam wants to pull him down again, to feel his skin, but Drake bats at his hands and straddles him instead. Adam is so not complaining, especially when Drake leans over to kiss him again, then fishes in the nightstand and tosses a condom to land on Adam’s chest.

“No foreplay?” Adam teases, ripping it open.

“You were crashed out for a hundred years,” Drake says, opening the lube and slicking up his own fingers. “I almost had to jerk off while I watched you sleep, okay, forget the stupid foreplay.”

Adam watches, suddenly dry-mouthed, as Drake reaches back and starts pressing his fingers into himself. His head falls back on his shoulders and his dick twitches and Adam has to touch him, has to run his fingers over the flat plane of Drake’s belly, the soft, soft skin of his cock, and back between his legs where he can feel Drake stretching himself open with his wet fingers. Drake whines when Adam pushes one of his own fingers in too, dry and tight between Drake’s own, and Adam gets so abruptly hard that his hands shake as he puts the condom on.

He grabs the lube and squeezes out too much, whatever, strokes it onto his cock while he watches Drake finger himself. When they’re both slick, both ready, Drake lets Adam fit his hands around his hips and lift him into place over Adam’s cock. Adam doesn’t have a big head or anything, but he does have a big cock, and he knows to take it easy when it’s been a while, no matter how eager Drake might be. And he is, fuck, he’s so eager, giving Adam a dirty, sexy, pissed-off look when Adam takes his time fitting himself up against Drake’s body, steady and slow.

“You’re hot when you’re impatient,” Adam tells him, and he can hear how his own voice is gravelly with sleep and sex. Drake shivers and cocks an eyebrow and reaches up to finger his own nipples, and Adam curses and pulls him down hard enough that Adam can start to push inside.

Drake makes this – this _noise_ , and it’s not the same as his phone-sex noises, and it’s one that Adam can never replicate in his own head. This sound he always makes when Adam’s cock is stretching him open, it’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan, shocked and pleased and hurt all at once. His body clenches hard around the head of Adam’s cock, and they both groan. Adam strokes the narrow lines of Drake’s hips, and watches his face, and then Drake leans back and braces his hands on Adam’s thighs and pushes himself down the rest of the way.

Adam makes some noise, some ridiculous, pathetically grateful noise, and he really means it, too. Drake is so tight and so hot and he feels every bit as incredible as he looks, and as soon as Adam can unswallow his own tongue he’s going to tell him that. He’s just – it’s just bliss, is what it is, soft mattress and pillows underneath him and Drake on top, and he doesn’t have to go anywhere after or worry that Kris can hear them through the hotel room wall (Drake has neighbors, Adam assumes, but none who Adam has to live on a bus with and suffer through their dramatic re-enactments the next day) and it’s - Drake’s here, in LA, and Adam’s in LA too, and everything is fabulous.

The rhythm Drake sets is slow and deep and warm, rocking together in their nest of sheets. Adam’s seeing stars already – it’s been so long and he’s really not going to set any personal bests for stamina right now, so he wraps his hand around Drake’s cock and strokes him firmly in time. He’s being lazy, he knows, but it feels so good to let Drake ride him however he wants, let him pick the best angle for himself, let him find the way Adam can fuck him that makes him pant and moan and dig his fingers hard into Adam’s legs.

“Adam,” Drake is chanting, soft and high. “Adam, Adam, Adam.”

It’s so soon, but Adam can feel himself getting close; he thinks about asking Drake to slow down, to ease off, but then he feels Drake’s body squeeze down around him and his hand squeezes Drake’s cock in response, and then they’re both there, suddenly, and Adam does something he hardly ever does: he actually calls Drake’s name when he comes.

When he opens his eyes, Drake is propped on one elbow, looking down at him. He’s wearing a lopsided, amused little smile, and Adam smiles back, blinking sleepily. “Hello, lover.”

“Hello,” Drake says pointedly.

“What?” Adam says, and then he notices that the shadows on the walls seem to be longer than they were before, and he – oh, God. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

“While you were _still in me_ ,” Drake says, wriggling his fingers at Adam’s waist to make him squirm. “Not your best curtain call ever, superstar.”

“Oh, God,” Adam groans, and curls his arm around Drake’s waist so he can roll them over and press Drake down against the mattress. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m just so tired.”

“I see that,” Drake says, and then they kiss for a while, slow and lazy, tugging at each other’s mouths. Drake says, “Your mom called, by the way. I answered your phone, is that okay? I didn’t want it to wake you.”

“Of course.” Adam kisses Drake’s nose. “What did she say?”

Drake laces his fingers at the back of Adam’s neck. “Just that she loves you. And then Kris sent you three text messages that didn’t make any sense – something about Lego men?”

Adam cracks up immediately, laughing into the pillow. Drake tuts and tugs on Adam’s hair. “You and your Idol jokes that I don’t get.”

“It’s not even funny,” Adam tries to say, but it is funny, in the way things are only funny when you’ve spent the last forever in really close quarters with someone while everything goes crazy around your ears, and he has to lie there on top of Drake and laugh for a while, ignoring Drake’s half-hearted complaints about how heavy he is.

“You sleep forever and now you won’t stop laughing,” Drake says. “Great. I’m dating a hysterical narcoleptic.”

Adam lets loose one last burst of giggles, and then manages to calm down enough to lean up and kiss Drake some more. “I really like your new place, by the way.”

Drake nips at his lip. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“I’ve seen the bedroom!” Adam says, slipping sideways a little to lie next to Drake, instead. He waves his arm expansively. “I see your pretty light fixture and your paintings on the wall. And the bed,” he strokes his hand over the sheets, “I really love what you’ve done with the bed.”

“Uh huh,” Drake says, but Adam can see him fighting down a smile.

“And I’ve seen the couch!” Adam goes on, pointing to it. “I love the couch! You were half-naked on that couch. I’m a big fan of the couch.”

Drake runs his fingers down the center of Adam’s chest. “You feel like maybe taking a tour of the bathroom?”

“Oh no,” Adam wrinkles his nose. “Do I smell like tour?”

“Among other things,” Drake confirms, but when Adam tries to shy away Drake follows and bites at his chin. “Come shower with me and I’ll wash your back for you.”

Adam pretends to think about it. He smushes his mouth to the side, considering.

Drake rolls his eyes. “I’ll wash your everything for you.”

“Now you’re talking,” Adam grins, and pulls Drake down, spreading his legs so Drake can fit between them.

“Mmm,” Drake moves against him a little bit. “Then I can show you the rest of the place, and then we need to eat something, okay. I am starving and God knows when you last had a real meal.” He rubs his palm over Adam’s ribs, frowning, then leans down and kisses Adam’s nipple before boosting himself up for a proper kiss. “And then when we’re clean, and fed, and you’ve called your mama back, I’ll give you another shot. Sound good?”

“That sounds like a perfect day,” Adam says honestly, wrapping his arms around Drake and squeezing. Drake hums and snuggles closer. Adam says softly, “I’m sorry,” and he really means it – not the sleeping, particularly, but just...just all of it, being away, being locked up in the Idol house before that, the stupid paparazzi, Drake’s privacy, Adam’s shitty timing, everything.

Drake props himself up on his elbows and looks down at him. “Lucky for you you’re so freaking gorgeous,” he says, and kisses Adam’s mouth when it stretches itself into a huge, pleased smile. “And that you feel so good,” he goes on, rocking their hips together. “And that I missed you,” he says then, quietly, pressing his face against Adam’s cheek.

Adam doesn’t know what to say, except, “I missed you too.” He pets Drake’s hair and holds him closer. His heart does a shaky little flip inside his chest.

Drake sighs, and kisses the underside of Adam’s chin. “Come on,” he says, wriggling out of Adam’s grasp and off the bed. “I got big plans for you to make it up to me really fucking hard.”

Adam stretches luxuriously as he watches Drake walk naked to the bathroom. It’s strange – they don’t live together, and they weren’t even in the same city before now, and Adam doesn’t actually have his own place at all. But he still feels like he’s come home.

“Stop staring at my ass and get in here,” Drake calls. Adam laughs, and rubs his eyes, and finds the energy to get out of bed.


End file.
